August 31, 2006

Today

Ten years ago

I dragged a heavy suitcase

onto the island of 

Manhattan, 

all bright lights

sparkling

and absolutely overwhelming

on a Thursday night

Ten years ago

Today

New York became Home

it coursed through my blood

And every day

every night

since then

It has done so, relentlessly

incessantly

beautifully

New York, 

Honey, 

Oh I love you so. 

Ps. This happened. 

(Start) Overs

There was a great storm in the sky as we passed over Missouri. A bolt of lightning every second lit up the giant mass of clouds to the north, like a grand spectacle that only we could see, 30,000 miles above the ground and hanging impossibly. I sat completely still as we passed it, unable to look away. There is something to be said for feeling immensely small once in a while. It put me at ease. 

All day smiling in anticipation, patiently handling every obstacle in a carefree breeze, although to be honest perhaps it was more careless. No matter. 

Sometimes the strikethroughs and rewrites and erases leave too much mess behind, it's impossible to write over again. I go to a land of mountains beyond  mountains, dark night skies and quiet sleeps, of dry air and a home that lives in you perpetually. I go not to begin the page anew. 

I go to start a new sheet entirely. 

Journal Notes

7-10-2016

Reading Goodbye to all That, and reminded again how I love New York beyond reason, how it is the place that makes me feel whole, and makes me feel like I am me. 
I'll figure the rest out. 
I will quit my job, and travel for a bit. I will return. I will find a dark, uncool bar in Alphabet City where no one goes and I will go there, drink beer, and remember who I am. 

Leaving New York is the hardest thing I've ever done. 
So Staying should be easy.

Ready to Go

Another heat wave rolls across the coastline, drowns the city in impossible humidity, turns every step into a treacle. I trek through the boroughs but none offer reprieve -- every subway platform is a battle against time, against your lungs giving out, against retaining the last scraps of dry fabric against your pulsating skin. Leave the two foot radius of each room's air conditioning unit and instantly be transported to a tropical wonderland. 

I walked down 108th tonight and the air smelled of warm, wet grass. It smelled of summer vacation and back to school supplies, those last free August nights sleeping on your neighbor's trampoline and looking at the stars. It's all you can think of these days, some nostalgic freedom and senses overwhelmed with life.

There is never time to be overwhelmed anymore. To be alone, lonely, scared, to long for something until it ached in your chest, to lie sleepless in anticipation. I wrap myself in security blankets and wandering daydreams about things that really shouldn't be at all. It passes the time, sure. 

But is passing time what you meant to do with your life?